Suppositions
by The Scratch Man
Summary: "The thing about Daryl is that he lets everyone make their assumptions and never says a word." Or, five times Daryl let someone think what they wanted about him, and one time it was the other way around. Warnings: pre-slash


A/N: My first TWD fic! I started watching the show last Saturday and am almost caught up...I started writing this when I finished episode 4x10 and this fic operates under the assumption that Maggie and Glenn aren't married and are really good friends, possibly with a short romantic history instead. Please let me know what you think! :) I'm scared to death that my characterizations are completely off. It's been a while since I've written any accents for characters in fanfic. -_- this fic is unbeta'd so if you see any mistakes, call me out on it.

Disclaimer: TWD is property of AMC.

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_001_.

The thing about Daryl is that he lets everyone make their assumptions and never says a word. Partially because he's not altogether chatty but mostly because, as he might say, he don't give a shit –ain't nobody's business what goes on inside his head but his own.

Possibly one the greater mysteries of Daryl is his history. He doesn't like to get into it, thinks it's better that way. The past is in the past. No use _dwellin'_ on it. He's amused, nevertheless, by the kid Zach and his daily guesses.

"Kid's last guess was a homicide cop," Daryl finds himself saying to no one, really, though Tyreese is helping him reinforce the prison fence, so he guesses that's who he's talking to.

Ty pauses, then snorts, and raises a new log. They push it against the fence even as the walkers push back.

"He was a good kid."

"Ain't they always?" Daryl mutters, thinking about Sophia. It still hurts, not finding her.

"I was an assistant manager," Ty says after a while. "At a Best Buy, you know? Too bad there's not much an associate's degree in business management is gonna get you during the ZA."

Daryl hums in agreement and knows this is the part of what is passing as a conversation where he should share his story, spill the beans on what he did Before. "Looks like it's gonna hold," he says about the fence instead. He picks up his crossbow and head back up to the prison that they've learned to call home.

_002_.

"Look," Rick approaches him again, later, "I know you and Carol were close, and I"

-Daryl levels him with a glare, the sort he hasn't used in a while, and has faith that his expression is as close to one of _Shut up, Grimes_ as it's gonna get.

Rick has his guilty-but-standing-with-my-decision-I'm-an-ex-cop-for-fuck's-sake look on his face. He stares back at Daryl, refusing to back down. That's what he likes about the man.

"No matter now," Daryl grunts and brushes past Rick. He makes his way to the sick rooms and checks in on everyone and then Glenn, because he doesn't know what the fuck else to do.

Maggie's already there, holding Glenn's hand as he attempts to cough up a lung and all of his blood.

Glenn glances up, face ashen and covered in a sheen of sweat, as he feels a new presence in the room. He grimaces, but not at Daryl. Kid probably feels like shit on the underside of God's shoe or something right now.

Maggie looks up, too. "Thanks," she says without explanation.

Daryl tips his head at her. Then he asks, "You take yer meds, kids?"

Glenn goes into a fit trying to answer, "Couple of minutes ago—"

"Glenn," Maggie murmurs, rubbing circles into his back, "You don't need to say anything."

He nods, ducking his head to cough into the crook of his arm.

Daryl pushes off the doorframe he's been leaning against and silently turns to leave. He's probably got something to do outside, though he's not quite able to think of anything yet.

"Daryl," Maggie calls after him, voice soft and kind, "Thanks again –for bringin' back the medicine for everyone"

Daryl just nods and shrugs and doesn't say how when he was fighting off the walkers that'd swarmed the car on during the supply run, it had been the frantic need to get the meds that had spurred him on. He doesn't mention that he'd only had one person's life on his mind, and it wasn't his.

He just keeps walking.

_003_.

After the shitstorm that is the Governor's return and the following chaos and finally, the reunion with the Grimeses, Michonne, Tyreese, Carol and the girls, Sasha, Bob and Maggie, Daryl sits by Carol at their campfire.

Mika is already asleep, but the girl Lizzie is sitting on Carol's other side, stabbing the log she's sitting on with her knife.

When Carol leaves to take a can of the heated up soup to Mika in their tent, Daryl abruptly finds himself on the receiving end of a murderous glare from a thirteen year-old.

Christ almighty.

He puts his spoon down as he finishes the last of his soup. Normally, he'd probably spit out something like "ya got somethin' t'say, you say it, kid", but he's not feeling particularly wordy today. Maggie is beside herself and won't come off watch duty and even though the group is relieved to be together, there's a tension between Carol and Rick and a Glenn-shaped hole in the fabric that holds the group together.

So Daryl just takes out a pack of cigarettes and lights the last smoke he has. He wouldn't say he's an avid smoker, but he needs something to get his mind off his restlessness.

He thinks back to the early days of the ZA and somehow find his mind referring to those days as the 'better' ones. The Atlanta camp had been safe for weeks, had been the first safe place he and Merle'd been able to stay for so long.

Merle.

Daryl doesn't like to think about it. Merle'd been an asshole, straight up, but Michonne had approached him one night, a couple days after the first fiasco with the Governor, and had told him all that Merle had said in his last hour.

And Merle never did anything like that in his damn life, which only made Daryl think that maybe he'd lost it in the end or had some huge fuckin' epiphany. Even when they were younger and Merle was willing to take a beating for Daryl when the old man was pissed (Daryl got beat, too, anyway), he'd never extended the hand to protect anyone _else_. Not even Ma.

So Daryl tries not to think about Merle too hard, just recognizes that he was a racist redneck stereotype and that Daryl misses him sometimes, anyway. Old habits die hard, and Merle was all Daryl had for a long time.

"If you hurt Carol, I'll kill you,"

This brings Daryl out of his thoughts. He puffs out some smoke and flicks ash off the end of his cigarette, blinking at Lizzie. "You think I'm fixin' t'hurt Carol?" he says, because that's just bullshit. He reminds himself that this is a little girl he's talking to and that he can't really get mad at her.

"Mika and me love Carol like she's our own mother. We'll cut off your balls in your sleep if you break her heart."

Daryl continues to blink in surprise. Christ. Where'd the kid learn to say _that_? "Ain't no one breakin' nobody's heart." he says gruffly, and picks up a stick to poke at the campfire a little.

"Good," Lizzie says, "Because Carol loves you and she deserves to be with someone who loves her."

"Don' I know it," Daryl agrees darkly, remembering the meek woman she had been around her fat dick of a husband. Daryl doesn't bother trying to remember his name, though. Better that the man's dead. Finishing his cigarette, Daryl tosses it to the ground and digs it into the dirt with his heel.

It's only when he's already retreated to his own tent that he realizes what Lizzie's gotten into her head. She thinks—

He sighs. Don't matter.

Carol will straighten her girls out with the truth if they bring it up again.

_004._

In the morning, Maggie announces her plan to go out and search for Glenn.

Everyone looks at each other with shifty, guilty expressions. They're all still so wary and they don't know if they want to _go_, even if they do want Glenn to be with them again.

Daryl sighs and goes into his tent as Maggie is still trying to cajole the group into helping her find Glenn. He grabs his jacket and already-packed bag of necessities and slings his crossbow over his shoulders as he returns to where the group is gathered.

Maggie is attempting to persuade Ty, who looks like he _really_ wants to tag along, but who keeps glancing back at Sasha, who doesn't look convinced at all.

Daryl snorts and brushes past Maggie, lightly bumping her shoulder with his. "We move out now we can get 'bout five miles out and back 'fore dark," he says, moving toward the forest.

"I'm not comin' back until I find him." she says stubbornly.

Daryl turns and locks eyes with Rick. "Did some scoutin' yesterday; there's an abandoned ranch up three miles north'a here. We head that way, and circle back t'meet in three days." He glances to Maggie, "You comin' or what?"

They head into the forest, the rest of the group watching them go reluctantly and damn if Daryl wasn't gonna find Glenn if it got him another arrow through the side. He wasn't gonna let what happened to Sophia happen again.

"Thank you," Maggie says in a shaky voice as they head down the way. "For doing this for me,"

Daryl bites back the _Not doin' this for _you_, lady_ that bubbles up in his throat. He just nods. "S'not gonna be easy. S'no trail to track. We're searchin' for a needle in damn haystack." he reminds her, though maybe he's also reminding himself a little. No use getting your hopes up too high.

_005_.

If Daryl were to pinpoint the exact moment he started giving a shit about anyone in the Atlanta camp, he'd say it was the moment the Vatos guys had taken Glenn. The broken scream of _DARYL_ had echoed in his head for an hour, and when he saw Glenn up on that roof with the bag over his head, he thinks that he might've lost it right then and there and shot everyone up if it weren't for the fact that Glenn was up on that roof ledge in the first place.

The Dixons hadn't been raised to be soft, though, and Daryl isn't some girl whose legs were gonna turn to jelly whenever their _crush_ is around.

He knows everyone at camp still holds some redneck stereotypes to him (even if they say he's proven himself to the group over and over), but Daryl isn't a homophobe. Wasn't _his_ business who people wanted to sleep with, so what did it matter? And Daryl knows what _he_ likes, so what does that matter, either?

Now, sitting in the dark beside a bleeding Glenn, holed up in the refrigeration unit of a diner with the only thing between them and a horde of walkers being the metal door, Daryl wonders if he should've said something long ago.

Glenn's breathing is shallow and his eyes are closed.

Daryl had done his best to treat the gashes in his side, and all they can do now is wait and risk being overrun and eaten.

"Shit," Daryl mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face. "_Shit_," he's surprised to find that his cheeks a wet.

There are few times that Daryl has ever given up hope like he has now. Before, it was always a matter of waiting for rescue. Except there's God-knows-how-many walkers banging on the door, Korea's out cold and injured besides, and Maggie –the only possible saving grace, is God-knows-where.

Splitting up is a bad idea. If Daryl lives out the day, he's going to make sure someone knows to talk him out of it in the future.

Glenn comes to about two hours later and makes a gagging sound as the stench of rotting fruit and vegetables and meat that is around them hits his nose. "Daryl…?" he whispers into the dark.

"Yeah."

He hears a groan. "What happened?"

Daryl knows his voice is harsh with bitterness. "Found you little ways down the street in that art supply place you were holed up. Got out on the street, got swarmed by a herd."

"I got cut on that piece of glass sticking off a shelf in the first place we ran through…" Glenn recalls. There's sound of movement and then a pained hiss.

"Dragged your sorry ass in here," Daryl says by way of confirmation.

"And now we're trapped," Glenn's voice has reverted to a whisper, like speaking up hurts, too. "Jesus, Daryl, I'm sorry. Shit, I'm sorry. Don't be mad."

"Got nothin' to be sorry for," Daryl says sharply, but doesn't correct the part about being angry. If the kid thinks he's angry, let him –it might keep him scared enough to stay the hell alive. Then again, Glenn's never been one to cower at Daryl's glares or words, even in the early days. Still, Daryl'd rather have the kid thinking he's angry that they're barricaded in a rank out-of-power cooling unit than have him know that Daryl is sick with worry.

There's no reply and then a shuddering intake of breath and a low, pained moan.

_001._

Daryl checks Glenn's pulse and it's weak; kid's blacked out again. He's lost too much blood, needs to be stitched up. If they don't get out of there soon, Glenn is gonna die.

When Daryl feels something against his hand, his first thought is a panicked _WALKER_, but in the next second he recalls that walkers don't have warm flesh and they'd be more likely to aggressively _eat_ your hand than weakly take it in their own.

And Daryl doesn't know what to do with that because Glenn is holding his hand and unless he missed a goddamn memo, they didn't _do_ that sort of thing.

"…Glenn?" he says, and hates how fucking scared and broken his voice sounds.

There's a low chuckle. "So you do …remember my name," Glenn teases weakly. Then he says, so uncertain it almost makes Daryl fucking _heart_ break: "Please don't leave me here."

Daryl can't find his voice to speak.

"And if I turn, you have to put me down," Glenn says softly.

"Fuck you, Korea," Daryl says, pulling his hand away angrily. He immediately regrets it. "Y'ain't dyin' on _me_, boy. Maggie's comin' an' we'll take out them walkers together an' get you back t'camp. I came all this way t'save your ass so don't you talk t'me about _dyin'_."

Glenn is quiet. "I'm sorry," he whispers, and falls silent and for the worst moment, Daryl listens and doesn't here the kid's haggard breathing and his heart jumps into his throat because _no way in hell_ could Glenn have died right then and there. Dramatic shit like that wasn't supposed to happen in real life (_yeah_, _an' people ain't supposed t'come back from the dead with'a case o' the munchies, neither,_ his brain supplies unhelpfully in Merle's voice).

"Glenn?" Daryl says frantically. He reaches for Glenn, finds the boy's chest and leans over to listen.

He doesn't hear a heartbeat and that is when Daryl falls back and screams, all rage and grief and fuck it –he never thought it would hurt this much.

_000._

He wakes up with a start, unsure of when he had passed out in the first place.

Daryl is lying in a tent and he has to stare up at the filthy fabric above him for a couple of minutes before his heartbeat returns to normal and he realizes that he's back at camp.

Flickers of Daryl's memory fill him in. He remembers the noise from the walkers outside growing and then gunfire. Daryl was quickly losing his fight to stay awake by that point, he was so dehydrated, and the last thing he saw was Rick kneeling down next to him and Glenn— Glenn hadn't come _back _yet, which was stupid, because it wasn't as if he would be _alive_—

Daryl sits up slowly and scrubs a hand over his face.

_Boohoo. Get the fuck over yourself, Dixon._

He climbs to his feet and ducks out of the tent only to find the entire camp outside staring at him, all frozen in place.

He looks down. He still wearing clothes, so it can't be that. He wonders if there's something on his face. Then he looks around and doesn't see Maggie and thinks _oh_. She hasn't returned.

But then she's emerging from her tent and crossing the camp, pulling him into an embrace while he's still surprised.

"Thank you," she murmurs and he's starting to get irritated with all her thanks because he hasn't even _done_ anything.

She pulls away and is beaming at him. "Glenn's been askin' for you. We said we'd have you drop by the moment you came 'round."

_That_ gets Daryl's attention. "Glenn?" he repeats, hating how hopeful his voice sounds. He follows her back to the tent she came out of.

Carol catches his eyes as he passes and smiles like they're sharing a secret.

Inside the tent, Glenn has been laid out in the corner amidst several blankets. He opens his eyes as Maggie and Daryl enter the tent, and while Maggie kneels down next to him, Daryl just stays near the tent flap, hovering.

Maggie whispers something to Glenn that makes him blush and eyes widen in a warning. Chuckling, she turns and stands. "I'll leave you two. Tent's not big enough for the three of us." she says, and then it's just Daryl and Glenn.

Daryl clears his throat awkwardly.

"Carol's making me stay in here until tomorrow," Glenn says. "Says I need rest." he makes a face.

There's silence.

"So," Glenn says, trying to sit up some more. He winces at the effort.

"So." Daryl sits back. Then he says, "Y'ain't dead."

"Disappointed?" Glenn says, but there's a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth.

"Hell no," Daryl says seriously.

That causes Glenn to grin, and Daryl draws closer –like a moth to a goddamn flame –and sits down beside Glenn's bedroll.

They sit (or in Glen's case, lie) in comfortable silence. "I was scared." Glenn says after a while. "Of dying. That I was going to die. After everything we've seen, all the people I've watched die right in front of me… I was still scared shitless of the idea that I would die. I didn't, but if I did… I was glad you were there with me."

Daryl doesn't know what to say to that, but then –he's never been a very articulate guy. "You turnin' into a girl on me, Korea?" he says finally, in the only way he knows how to say _I know, I'm glad, too._

He thinks Glenn gets it, though, because he smiles again, this time tiredly.

Daryl stand. "You should rest." he says.

"Wait," Glenn reaches out, hand grabbing Daryl's arm. "Would you –would you stay …just for a little while?" he asks, voice hesitant.

_Yeah. Hell yeah._ Daryl shrugs and sits back down. "Guess everyone can manage without me f'nother day." he mumbles.

Glenn looks relieved. "Thanks, man,"

"Get some fuckin' rest, Chinaman," Daryl says fondly, sitting down as Glenn lies back again and sits down.

"M'Korean." Glenn grumbles, but his eyelids are drooping close as he loses his battle with consciousness. His grip on Daryl's arm loosens and his hand slides to Daryl's wrist.

"I know," he says quietly. Daryl hesitates and then, figuring _what the hell_, he maneuvers his hand so that he can lace their fingers together, and as he watches the rise and fall of Glenn's chest, he wonders what he'll say if he has to explain it. Probably nothing –the pro to being Daryl is that an answer isn't always expected.

Daryl thinks that he'd like to say something, though. _Got somethin' t'say, you say it, boy_. He's the world's biggest hypocrite.

"Daryl?" Apparently Glenn is still awake. "Don't," he says, when Daryl automatically begins to move away. Glenn's hand tightens around Daryl's. "Don't leave." he mumbles again, eyes blinking open briefly. The corner of his mouth twitches into a sleepy smile and a warm feeling blossoms in Daryl's chest and grows.

He returns the grin, hesitantly at first. "I won't." he promises, and feels a tension leave his body.


End file.
